I once met a man,
a man with a hole,
a hole in the place where his stomach should be.
The whole man marched,
he marched with a pole,
a pole to embrace his entirety.
Does the man have a heart?
Does the heart have a soul?
Is the soul in the space through which you can see?
He is recycled art
and this art has a role,
a role to persuade you to think differently.
Man, hole,
hole, pole,
heart, soul,
art, role …..
all on the TRAIL at Teignmouth by sea.
That's a fantastic poem Neil! It has real rhythm and pace, much like the sound of a group walking together!! It's really good! Xx
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